


To Challenge a Pennyworth

by RebelDrFerguson



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred being a total boss, BAMF!Alfred, Barry needs a social life, Bruce loves his Butler, Bruce trying to Impress Diana, Fighting, Gen, Getting a quicky in a hotel, Jokes, Speed Dating, Strip Poker, Who's got the biggest slong Batman or Superman?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:59:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelDrFerguson/pseuds/RebelDrFerguson
Summary: Bruce likes to think he's top dog of the lake house. He's rich...he's fit...he's....did I say rich? He's not the greatest at poker and can only win a fight against an old man, no, wait, scratch that....no he can't and well, the billionaire playboy could do with a bit of tune up, looks like Butler's raising orphans are the new thing in speed dating.





	1. Strip Poker

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly Crack. I had a bad week, I needed to write some shit for laughs and anyway who doesn't want to see Alfred win over Bruce?

When your bedbound for a week after breaking your leg things get boring very fast when you're the Batman. Used to fighting crime, making coffee and general moping about the state of your life even though you have more money than all of Gotham. 

 

After a two further weeks being housebound on crutches, things can be downright maddening to the point where you might have in some coffee-fueled haze at four am in the morning brought a coffee table that transformed into a poker table. 

 

The problem was, that even though he had three hundred people in his employment he only knew ten or so to call them somewhat friends and even then none of them were exactly cool enough to play poker with. 

 

That left him with Clark, Diana and Alfred. 

 

Now seeing as Clark couldn't really afford to bust hundreds in a game of poker. Bruce would let him keep his cash and they'd just play with the chips on who buys a drink at the bar the next time he visits. But after a month of random fly by’s of Superman, two drop in’s from Diana and Alfred’s dryest sarcasm he cracked open a beer against his Butlers orders and demanded a more serious game. 

 

“Strip poker?” Diana smirks as she takes the glass of wine Bruce offers one evening when she’s in town. 

“Yeah, Clark’s about to head over and I just need a good excuse to wrangle Alfred in, it'll be funny”

 

Diana shakes her head at the limping vigilante. “Alright, but no ogling, I get enough of that on missions”

 

“Awwww, but that's the best bit…” Bruce teases earning a glare and he laughs dropping down at the table where's he's already stacked the chips. 

 

Diana purses her lips. “Then how about we change this up, cash out Brucey, let's see what happens when you put your money where your mouth is” she dares as she sits and his eyebrows go up.

 

“None of you could out bet me” he frowns and she tuts. “Obviously, I'm talking sensible stakes you idiot” she smiles. 

 

“Ten, two fifty?” He asks and she nods. “That will do”

 

Clark walks in shrugging off his jacket and grabbing his can from the fridge like the four other times before and sits down just as Alfred returns from the cave to lock up for the evening. 

 

“Ah, poker night already?” He chuckles earning three rather different greetings. But it was what Bruce said as he password locked the door to the study that made him turn. 

 

“Fancy a bet Alf?” 

 

Alfred's eyebrow inched up and he glanced over his shoulder to the table. 

 

“Ten, two fifty and its a strip…loser pays up”

 

He might have blinked in surprise at the dare. It was rare Bruce wanted to play never mind want his company in such a thing these days. They saw enough of each other. The curious look from Clark and the heated gaze of the Amazonian over the rim of her wine glass might have sold it. He was about to shove that smirk right down Master Wayne's throat. 

 

“I don't see why not, no decent TV on anyway” he smirks making for the fridge and grabbing a can of Guinness. Bruce grimaced. “Eurgh, that stuff like oil Alfred how can you stand it?”

 

“You haven't got any Irish in you, you wouldn't understand” Alfred winks sitting between Bruce and Clark. 

 

Racking the chips up, Bruce let's Alfred deal and might have internally groaned as his fancy shuffling. Damn it. He knew poker too well. “You know, there isn't much else to do when your sitting on a stakeout in the middle of nowhere beside a campfire when you have a pack of cards on you and good company” The Butler taunts making Clark and Diana smirk and Bruce sigh with regret. 

 

“It was quite fun to watch your father lose” he adds and Bruce choked on his beer. 

 

First round, drew Diana and Alfred. Three of a kind. But Alfred had a King. 

 

One tie, one set of heels and a jumper hit the floor. 

 

Second round, saw Bruce chuckling as he scraped up his winnings and watched Diana lose her neck scarf, Clark over shirt hit the floor and Alfred’s waistcoat hung on the chair.

 

Three rounds later left Bruce down to his vest and jeans, Diana in her dress only… her thong hanging from the chair back and Clark down to his T shirt and boxers with Alfred having won all three in a row. 

 

He decides to flunk a round giving Clark the advantage when he deals with some very sneaky skills and watches Bruce eyeing him as he pulls off his shirt. The younger then getting macho as Bruce's vest comes off and Diana admires his chest. 

 

When Diana wins the next two in a row because come on, she’s only got two bits left anyway and Alfred was too much the gentleman to let her loose so soon, Bruce is in his boxers and so is Clark. Because apparently belts and socks count as well before pants. 

 

Seeing as he still had his T-shirt, boxers and socks still on, Alfred was obviously going to win as they drew the last set. 

 

But who was going to lose?  

 

Diana looked nervous. Clark looked defeated and Bruce well, he was blushing rather hard right about now because when Alfred slaps all three with a full house without actually cheating this time, he takes his eight hundred dollar winnings and lets Diana get dressed again because “You're far too much of a fine woman for me darling, you might give this old dog a heart attack if you were to take that off, so would you awfully mind joining me for a coffee while we watch these two compare sizes?” 

 

Bruce learnt one thing that night.

 

Alfred assumed he’d never be invited to play again with Bruce, but it suddenly became a monthly occurrence. Him, Bruce, Jim Gordon and Diana….all money. 

 

Never strip. What a surprise. 


	2. All In and fists out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana was flirting with Arthur, Bruce wants her attention, Let's fight Alfred!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk about a bad idea...

**Rule Two: Never challenge Alfred to a fight (when he knows all your moves).**

  
  


Trying to impress Diana with anything but money and art, was hard. She enjoyed cars, he had seven. She liked boats he had four. She even liked Island getaways, he had two private villas and a Swiss mansion. 

 

But when all this was offered and she was busy, Bruce tried to find something to gain her attention off of Arthur who had recently gifted her some exotic fish and spent three hours talking about the coral reefs in Australia. 

Fighting with Barry was pointless because the kid was too fast he could avoid every move. 

 

Clark was a no go because been there done that and regrets it. 

 

Fighting Arthur he realised would seem very obviously macho and defensive and the last thing he wanted to do was Diana to see he was acting like some caveman claiming his women. 

 

Victor was....god knows where that guy got too. 

 

So that left Alfred. The seventy-year-old ex SAS agent who’s military records were as thick as the wheels on the Batmobile and had taught him how to fight in the first place from just twelve years old. 

 

Yes, Bruce had gone out later in life and picked up new tricks, but that usually involved turning weapons on people and Alfred knew nearly all hand to hand combat in some form. Whether it be just one move or twenty. 

 

After what had been the most stressful week of crime fighting in Gotham, Bruce cracked, Standing in only his gym clothes in the padded section of the underground training facility Alfred again helped him build, he called the Butler down from the lakehouse for a one on one match while Diana and Barry were over for dinner. 

 

“I know you very rarely take my advice Master Wayne, but in this case, my advice is to take my advice, this is very bad idea...your concussed” 

 

“I’m fine” 

 

Alfred sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. “Bruce, one good hit and I might knock you unconscious, I would rather wait until your fit” 

 

“I’m fine, Alfred come on, you know this game too well, five hundred I can beat you this time” He smirks checking the mats were secure. He didn't fancy a trip to A&E with Alfred if one slipped and he hit concrete.

 

Turning to look at Miss Prince and Mister Allen who both looked just as concerned, Alfred gave in. “Fine, but if I make a fool out of you, don’t you dare sulk”  

The fact Barry cheekily wolf whistled when Alfred started to strip off his waistcoat and boots and the fact Diana actually laughed when Alfred winked back at her just made everything worse. 

 

“Rules?” Alfred asks as Bruce cracks his knuckles. 

 

“No weapons...no headshots aaannnddd….first pinned?”

 

Alfred shrugged and started to pull off his toys. Two knives, a set of batarangs in his pocket, two small compact guns, a set of brass knuckles and a pair of handcuffs.

 

“Anything else?” Bruce asks mildly concerned. 

 

Alfred went for innocent landed on guilty earning a frown and pulls another a swiss army knife out of his collar. 

 

“Never know when you’ll get attacked” He adds sheepishly and Diana is smiling. Oh, boy, he had to win now. The last time he fought Alfred on the mats was a good ten years ago. Just practice training after he’d been laid up for some months with a broken leg and fractured collarbone. They’d drawn after a solid hour of sparring off and Alfred was pleased to let him go back outside.

 

But now Alfred was older, had lost muscle in places and he’d been limping for the past two years. Bad knees. 

 

Suddenly he regretted it. He was fighting an old man, yes, a very highly trained one but how did this look....a forty-year-old vigilante billionaire challenging his Butler slash father figure because he had no chances of beating anyone else. 

 

It looked weak as fuck. 

 

Whether it did, that isn’t how Alfred played it, sixteen punches, three trips and a headlock, backflip off the wall...combo thing, that Bruce barely saw because of the sharp jab he’d got in the gut beforehand, he was sweating! 

 

Alfred wasn't breathless, breathing heavier but he didn't seem phased as he stood waiting for Bruce to get up off his knees. Bruce goes for a wild swing as he charges forward and slams Alfred back into the wall of mats, it gets blocked and he’s shoved back with a knee in the gut once again, tripped backwards and they roll before they break into some very quick paced Judo moves. 

 

Due to the slightly too small space, he realised that unless he could wrestle Alfred down he’d have no way to win when The Butler was avoiding his methods to cheat him down. 

 

Taking another run and aiming to just knock the older to the floor with pure strength failed spectacularly, because as he went high, Alfred dropped, kicking out and swiping the youngers legs out from underneath him sending him flying into the opposite wall and down on his back meaning Alfred could simply turn around and plant a foot on his chest.  

 

“Finished?” 

 

Bruce huffed loudly and went to grab said leg when he realised he could do more damage trying to use force and didn’t fancy breaking Alfred’s knee cap just to get a point across. 

 

“Yeah...I’m done”

 

Letting him up, Alfred went to retrieve his stuff from the edge of the mats and only just managed to turn and catch the cheap shot Bruce went to take from behind which earned him a sharp slam to the jaw with a pair of brass knuckles. 

 

“Fuck! Bruce how many times have I told you not to do that!” Alfred barked in slight shock having just sent Bruce to floor clutching his face. “You know I’m trained to just react!” 

 

By the time Bruce could sit up holding his jaw, Alfred returned with an ice pack and he noticed Diana and Barry were gone and he looked like an idiot. 

 

“If you wanted to win to impress Diana, you could have just said, I’d have given twenty minutes and then thrown it” Alfred chuckled as he pulled him to his feet. 

 

Bruce just growled and stomped off to the bathroom. 

 

“You never learn”

 

Sparring with Alfred went out of the window. Never again, Diana was now in charge of Bruce’s training and honestly, if Bruce had just asked her for that in the first place, she’d have been smiling for much longer Alfred reminded him. 

 

Diana might be a woman. But even Alfred wouldn’t dare challenge her, in fact when Clark found out about Bruce’s little fight and spotted Diana’s unimpressed look at the mention even he suggested why didn’t he just ask her to fight. “You want to get hot and sweaty with her, why didn't you just ask her to fight, I mean come on...sexual tension!?” Barry jibed over the phone as he waited for his pizza. Fuck, even Barry could see it, yep, total idiot. 


	3. Speed Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Bruce's love life is lacking, Alfred tells him to call Diana, Noooo, let go speed dating instead.

Seeing that Diana was out of town and no Alfred I’m not phoning her because I'm lonely, Bruce jumped to call the Butler’s bluff that he was no good at talking to women by signing both of them and Barry up for a local speed dating gig at one of the hotels. 

 

“Are you serious?” Alfred asked that evening as he compared ties. “You said we were going for dinner?”

 

“We are, but it’s after, and who ever loses buys it” Bruce smirked pulling on his shirt. 

 

“Then why on earth have you invited Barry, he can’t afford those price’s Bruce he’s a student!” 

 

Bruce smirked and started on his bow tie. “Take the edge out, plus, he needs to get a social life and if he ends up with a few mom figures that might do him good” 

 

Alfred pondered as to whether meeting women twice his age would be good but whatever the boy had agreed to come, possibly bought out but nonetheless. 

  
  


Entering the hotel beside Bruce and Barry, Alfred counted thirty-three women in the room and was pleased get a seven stuck to his name badge. 

 

“Wow...erm, guys seriously why am I here, there can’t be women under thirty-five in here?” Barry whispers as they stand at the bar awaiting the gig to begin. 

 

“Oh come on Barry, there must be a few cougars in here...you might find an older women, cooks, cleans...you know, in fact they might even have a daughter that they’d set you with instead...can’t hurt” Bruce teases and earns not only a glare from Barry but an elbow in ribs from Alfred at the term cougar. 

 

“Gentlemen if you don't mind taking to your tables and we can begin” shouted the clerk and everyone moved for there seats. “Bets, you can’t get more numbers than me?” Bruce whispered snagging Alfred’s elbow just before he walked away. Alfred just laughed. “Oh you are on Master Wayne, prepare to pay” 

 

Bruce was seated three tables down in front in full view, as he took to his seat in front of a rather bright eyed brunette who honestly couldn't have been past forty. 

 

Her name tag read Sue. Lovely. 

 

Six tables down and Bruce was smirking in his direction. Probably thinking that money would win him the women's numbers. But so far, all six women Alfred had met were more interested in his work, as Butler than what his bank account looked like. 

 

The seventh had already heard stories from Bruce and gushed on and on and on about how brave he was raising a boy like that and how great it is to see they had such a nice bond and how sexy it was that Alfred had such a paternal streak. 

 

This gave him an idea. It was clear that Violet? Yes, she’d taken the whole sob story to heart quite quickly and although Bruce wasn’t her type, rich or not she clearly like Alfred. Why? Well, thirty-eight-year-old women looking for an older male sugar daddy to settle with…

 

Well, if Bruce was playing the Billionaire playboy, he could be the just as rich sugar daddy….

 

Number eight and nine melted as he started about his life in the marines then as a Butler, raising his friends orphaned son, no names of course, he awaited them to run into Bruce because he mentioned he was here with him tonight and about how it was so hard keeping such a young boy from drowning under all that pressure, how it’s been such a lonely life not having time for much but caring for him. 

 

By the time he was on the last few, he was more than sure he’d scored a good half of the women in the room. 

 

Bruce, on the other hand, was finding it harder. Talking money excited most of the youngest ones, the thirty sevens in a dead end job ones or the forty five touching ones that wanted to retire from working in a primary school, but the women who were better dressed with sharper eyes, especially Lynda the platinum blonde who worked for her ex-boyfriends law firm was looking for marriage, settling down, someone with a more mature air and family skills. When Bruce saw her sit down with Alfred he knew something was up, because she was smiling, laughing and god damn was she holding his HAND!

 

She had to be the most striking women in the room, dressed in white drinking a high-end white wine. Plus...she was British. 

 

When the timer buzzed for them to move on, Bruce spotted her lean-to whisper something in Alfred’s ear, then she disappeared from the room, two final girls later and Alfred was out of the door as well before Bruce could even walk over and ask how he thought it went.

 

“That was weird” Barry sighed. As they sat at the bar again awaiting the cards to be counted and handed out. 

 

Bruce hummed in agreement still not seeing Alfred or Lynda for that matter. 

 

Just as the line of men collecting there calling cards got down to Bruce, Alfred saddled in doing up his waistcoat and tidying his hair. “Where the hell have you been?” Bruce muttered annoyed as the Butler reached over and took his cards from the desk clerk. 

 

“None of your business, my boy” He smirks thumbing the stack of white he held and winked. Bruce glanced down at his own cards. “I got fifteen” he grumbles. And looks to Barry. 

 

“Seven” Barry shrugged. “Most of them saw me too young obviously” 

 

Handing Bruce his stack Alfred just straightens his coat. “Looks like your buying dinner, Master Wayne” 

 

Barry perked up at the mention of food and followed Alfred out to the car, Bruce trailing behind as he counted the cards. “Twenty eight...jesus Alfred, care to show me those moves?” 

 

Alfred paused on the steps cracking the umbrella open over them he’d left in the coat stand by the door when they came in. 

 

“Perhaps” He smirks turning to flash a wink at Lynda who reappeared passing them on the stairs. 

 

“I’ll call you later Alfie, John wants me back at the office, paper trials never end honey” she shouts as she dashes for the taxi that waited and blowing the Butler a kiss she was gone. 

 

“What the…” Barry started.

 

“...hell Alfred...did you…” and Bruce finished. 

 

“I don’t shag women in hotels and tell Master Wayne” He chuckles as they start for the car in the rain. 

 

“I think you just did” Bruce laughs back as they stop by the car and Alfred opens the door for him in full view of some of the ladies that were watching from the top of the steps. 

 

“Can we stop and get doughnuts after dinner?” Bruce taunts loudly as Barry climbs in the car. 

 

Alfred was literally about to respond with “you what?” when he saw the puppy look Bruce was giving him and snuck a side glance at all the ladies who were watching them with little smiles. Oh, play it up, Bruce, play it up. 

 

With a playful sigh and shake of his head, Alfred closes the umbrella and gives Bruce a push into the car. “Just get in and I’ll think about it” he adds enough for the women to hear.

 

As Alfred walks around the opposite side Bruce stick his arm out of the window and shoots himself a ‘random car selfie’ because he’d gained nineteen new followers to his snapchat. 

 

The chorus of motherly ‘Bye Brucey’ as they drove past the group outside the hotel might have left Barry and Alfred in hysterics when they were out of sight and Bruce to groan. "What did you tell them, Alfred?!"

 

“So….someone mentioned dinner?” Barry adds after a while and Bruce sighs. “Take us to that all you can eat buffet Alfred, otherwise my wallet might just die” 


End file.
